LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
-"Y^rr^^ 

an Qiyjii|ng]^t fc* 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



fae-ii^iAks -i^ ta^, 



THE INEVITABLE 

AND OTHER POEMS 



/ 



SARAH KNOWLES BOLTON 

Author of "Social Studies in England" "Stories from Life" 

"From Heart and Nature" (poems) "Famous Types 

of Womanhood " " Famous Voyages and 

Explorers " " Famous Leaders among 

Hen" etc. etc. 




3i 9/ dJA ^ 



NEW YORK; 46 East 14TH Street 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 

BOSTON : 100 Purchase Street 



\ S^s 



V> '^ 



K. 



r 



:p\;< 



Copyright, 1895 
By Thomas Y. Crowell & Company 



/Z-30TJi 



PRESS oy 
BOSTON 



To THE Memory of Two Noble Women 

iaaartija mSitb&tex iHiller 

AND 

iSlarilla Sopljia Bolton 



CONTENTS 



The Inevitable 


1 


Tennyson 


3 


The Moonlight 


6 


What is Beyond ? 


6 


James Russell Lowell 


8 


A Contrast .... 


10 


A Queen's Undying Love . 


12 


The Battle of Cuzzola 


17 


The Lady Kukachin . 


21 


GlORGIOXE .... 


24 


Henry Hudson 


27 


Leaving St. Petersburg 


31 


Easter Hymn .... 


33 


Her Creed .... 


35 


v 





Contents. 





PAGE 


The Unfinished Stocking . 


37 


The Tide is in . 


39 


Never the Same . 


41 


Change 


43 


The Future .... 


45 


Blessings Near at Hand . 


47 


Faith ..... 


49 


From Life .... 


51 


Broken Measures . 


54 


The New Era 


57 


Chestnuts .... 


60 


When Chestnuts Fall . 


61 


I Wonder .... 


63 


A Sunset Walk 


65 


Because I Love You . 


67 


A Song 


69 


Marblehead Neck 


71 


A Song 


73 


My E.OBIN .... 


75 



Contents. 





PAQE 


The Coloring ok the Grapes 


77 


On Collamer Hi^ls 


79 


The Blooming Time 


81 


Our Horse-Chestnut Treks 


83 


The Time to Love 


85 


Not for Ourselves 


87 


His Monument 


89 


Mencius 


91 


Now 


93 


Be What Thou Seemest 


95 


At Twilight .... 


97 


Do Your Work Early 


99 



POEMS. 



THE INEVITABLE. 

I LIKE the man wlio faces what he must, 
With step triumphant and a heart of 

cheer ; 
Who fights the daily battle without fear ; 
Sees his hopes fail, yet keeps unfaltering 

trust 
That God is God ; that somehow, true and 
just 
His plans work out for mortals ; not a 

tear 
Is shed when fortune, which the world 
holds dear, 

I 



The Inevitable. 



Falls from his grasp : better, with love, a 

crust 
Than living in dishonor ; envies not, 
Nor loses faith in man ; but does his 
best, 
Nor ever murmiirs at his humbler lot. 
But, with a smile and words of hope, 
gives zest 
To every toiler : he alone is great. 
Who by a life heroic conquers fate. 



TENNYSON. 



At dead of night, 

By full moonlight, 
A stately ship sailed out to sea, 
From surge and tempest free. 

She carried out, 

From pain and doubt, 
A soul as grand as earth has known, 
To meet its own. 

He lingered long 

To bless with song 
Nations that, yet unborn, shall praise 
The beauty of his lays. 
3 



Tennyson. 

He lived and loved, 

And, dying, proved 
How greater than his finished line 
Is man : well-nigh divine. 

He walks no more 

By wood or shore. 
Along the dunes of Farringford : 
He tarries with his Lord. 



THE MOONLIGHT. 



What is the moonlight to me ? 

An infinite rest ; 
The subtle and sweet melody 

Of song unexpressed. 

What is the moonlight to me ? 

The peace of a river : 
Companionship of a sea 

That surges forever. 

What is the moonlight to me ? 

Satisfaction completest ; 
A precious and dear memory 

Of all that is sweetest. 

What is the moonlight to me ? 

A tryst and a union ; 
A promise for futurity ; 

A soulful communion. 

5 



WHAT IS BEYOND? 



The blue sky and the blue lake 

Meet together 

In sunny weather, 
But what, oh ! what is beyond ? 
I know this side the horizon line, 
With its purple hillsides, broad and fine; 
But the country beyond — has it lakes like 

ours. 
And trees of grandeur, and fruits and 
flowers ? 

What, oh ! what is beyond ? 

The gray sky and the gray lake 

Meet together 

In sombre weather, 
But what, oh ! what is beyond ? 
6 



JVhai is Beyond? 



I know these homes, with their loves and 

woes, 
Their buried hopes from which patience 

grows ; 
Are these broken affections united there ? 
Will fruition come to their hope and 

prayer ? 

Wliat, oh ! what is beyond ? 

The black sky and the black lake 

Meet together 

In stormy weather, 
But what, oh ! what is beyond ? 
I know the currents that thrill the earth, 
And flash the sky at the thunder's birth ; 
But what of the circuit far souls between. 
And the central power in the Great 
Unseen ? 

What, oh ! what is beyond ? 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 



The great trees murmur at the midnight 
hour, 

The birds in silence Avait ; 
A soul is passing to the Fount of Power - 

Elmwood is desolate. 

Lover of nature, lover of his race, 

Learned and true and strong ; 
Using for others with surpassing grace 

The matchless gift of song. 

"When clouds hung darkest in our day of 
pain 

He prophesied the light ; 
He looked adown the ages for the reign 

Of Brotherhood and Right. 



James Russell Lowell. 



Proud of his country, helping to unbind 

The fetters of the slave ; 
Two worlds their wreaths of honor liave 
entwined 

About an open grave. 

Great in his simple love of flower and bird, 

Great in the statesman's art ; 
He has been greatest in his lifting word 

To every human heart. 

He lived the lesson which Sir Launfal 
guessed 

Through Avandering far and wide ; 
The giver must be given in the quest — 

He gave himself and died. 



A CONTRAST. 



Two men toiled side by side from sun to 
sun, 

And both were poor ; 
Both sat with children, when the day was 
done, 

About their door. 
One saw the beautiful in crimson cloud 

And shining moon ; 
The other, with his head in sadness bowed, 

Made night of noon. 

One loved each tree and flower and singing 
bird 

On mount or plain ; 
No music in the soul of one was stifred 

By leaf or rain. 

lO 



A Contrast. \ i 



One saw the good in every fellow-man, 

And hoped the best ; 
The other marvelled at his Master's plan, 

And doubt confessed. 

One, having heaven above and heaven 
below, 

Was satisfied ; 
The other, discontented, lived in woe, 

And hopeless died. 



A QUEEN'S UNDYING LOVE. 



Joanna, daughter" of the noble queen 
Whom all Castilians worshipped, whose 

white hand 
Sent out Columbus on his glorious quest, 
Had married Philip, of the Austrian court. 
Gay, brilliant, handsome, with no heart of 

love 
For her who reigned beside him. 

Like a child. 
Who, in its helpless fondness, clings and 

loves 
Even the hand that strikes it, so the queen 
Knelt to her idol ; sought by voice and eye 
To know his every wish; thought night 

and day 
Upon her hopeless love and loved the more. 

12 



A Queen's Undying Love. 13 



When Philip journeyed into other lands, 
And welcomed beauty from a thousand 

eyes, 
Joanna's face grew pale with agony, 
And never brightened till she followed him, 
And stood beside her faithless, recreant 

king. 
Broken in heart, for her long-suffering 

child. 
Queen Isabella died, and Ferdinand 
Wept, with the world, for her who well 

deserved 
The homage of her race. 

Then Philip, glad, 
In youthful pride, sat on Castilian throne. 
Sad-faced Joanna silent at his feet. 
In three short years the tragedy was 

closed ; 
Philip, at twenty-eight, lay white in death. 



14 A Queen's Undying Love. 



Joanna thought not of her crown or child ; 
Like a fond mother whose intensest love 
Centres in one who passes from her sight 
Unmindful of her prayers and bitter tears, 
So the young queen cared only for the lost. 
Like one benumbed she gazed upon his 

face; 
Shed not a tear while coffin-lid was closed, 
And he, the only precious thing on earth. 
Was borne away forever. Ah ! not so ; 
Eor she had read how once a famous king 
Had come to life through love's all-potent 

charm ; 
And Philip should come back, and death 

give way 
Before her homage. 

To her queenly bed 
She brought the buried king, so pale and 

cold. 



A Qiieen's Undying Love. 15 



Should not love warm him, make his heart's 

blood flow ? 
Should not her eyes, by some unconscious 

power, 
Unclose the eyelids she had often kissed ? 
With jealous care she bent above her dead, 
Allowing none to touch the hallowed form. 
Days passed, and weeks, but Philip an- 
swered not. 
A little child was born beside the dead ; 
His baby Catharine, but he did not see. 
Joanna waited, with a pallid face. 
Till, finally, as a lamb in wind and sleet, 
Lost from the flock, lies down to wait the 

end, 
So, covering her dead from mortal view. 
She sadly waited till her life should close. 
Years came and went, till half a century 
Had made the girlish queen gray-haired 
and old: 



1 6 A Queen's Undying Love. 



The precious coffin never left her side ; 

The dead was Philip still, her best beloved. 

With her great son, the Emperor Charles 
the Fifth, 

She ruled the Spaniards, loyal to their 
queen. 

They pitied, while they loved and rever- 
enced, 

The wife and yet the sovereign ; proud at 
heart 

That Spain could show a woman's death- 
less love. 



THE BATTLE OF CUZZOLA. 



With pennons flying, and with trumpets' 

blare, 
And noise of pipes, Venetian galleys swept 
Into the Adriatic, Dandolo, 
In stately flagship leading ; Genoa, 
Proud, hating Venice, eager for the fight, 
Was ready when the Sunday sun should 

dawn, 
To meet the foe; on came the brilliant 

fleet, 
The morning sun bathing them all in gold. 
Hurling their crossbows at the Genoese; 
And back came showers of arrows, iron, 

fire-tipped, 

17 



1 8 The Battle of Cui^ola. 



To blaze among the rigging, and quick-lime 
To blind their eyes as though a dagger's 

point 
Had pierced them ; but so furious the at- 
tack 
That ten brave galleys of the Genoese, 
All red with gore, were captured. 

Doria, 
The friend of Genoa, famed in peace and war, 
Stood watching the dread conflict, sick at 

heart, 
That Italy's best blood was spilled in vain. 
At the forecastle stood his eldest son, 
Octavian, worthy of his noble line, 
Fearless and foremost in the rain of spears ; 
When lo ! an arrow entered the young 

heart. 
And, horror-stricken, every face grew pale. 
What need to battle longer with the foe ? 



The Battle of Cu;^{ola. 19 



But Lamba Doria sprang across the ship, 
And raised the dead young soldiei* to his 

breast, 
Still warm beneath his armor : " Ah ! my 

son. 
If thou hadst died at home thou couldst 

not have 
A burial place more splendid than the sea ;" 
And pressing close the one he idolized, 
He cast the body to the seething waves. 
And saw it sink forever. 

Then he bade 
His weeping comrades seize their spears 

again, 
And light the braver for Octavian's death. 
Woe turned to fierceness, and with wildest 

zeal. 
And recking not whether they lived or 

died. 
They slew Venetians till the sun went down. 



20 The Battle of Cu^^ola. 



Seven thousand men were captured and in 

chains ; 
Venice was humbled ; one, in proud despair, 
Her leader, Dandolo, refused to live, 
And ended his existence ; Genoa gave 
A noble burial to her valiant foe. 
The battle of Cuzzola conquered peace 
Between the two Republics ; many gifts 
Of palaces and honors for his line 
Were given Lamba Doria, but his gift, 
With love of country burning in his heart, 
Exceeded all his state could offer him : 
The life of his beloved Octavian. 



THE LADY KUKACHIN. 

(Tear 1201.) 

Sad and lonely was Arghun Khan 
For the loss of Khatun Bulughan, 

His best beloved, who, dying, left 
A tender message for him bereft, 

That one of her blood should fill her place, 
Pure and fair from the Mongul race. 

So he sent his courtiers among her kin. 
And they chose the Lady Kukachin, 

Gentle, yet able, though scarce seventeen, 
Fit to rule as the Persian Queen. 



The Lady Kukachin. 



Thirteen ships and eight hundred men 
Sailed from a port in Fokien, 

Bearing the bride that was to be ; 
For two long years, in the Indian sea, 

Stopped sometimes by the deadly breath 
Of the hot monsoon, they sailed, till death 

Had spared but eight of the valiant throng 
Who started gayly, with hope and song. 

Arghun Khan had passed away 
Before his bride had left Cathay : 

His brother reigned, and his son Ghazan 
Guarded the passes of Khorassan, 

With sixty thousand of Persia's pride ; 
Thither they brought the fair young bride. 



The Lady Kukachin. 23 



He was learned and noble, and fit to win 
The hand of the Lady Kukachin ; 

So with music and dancing she wed 

Ghazan, 
Instead of the gray-haired Arghun Khan. 

For two brief years did the sweet girl-wife 
Brighten the courtly Persian life ; 

But when June roses began to fade, 
A royal and costly tomb was made, 

And with breaking hearts they laid therein 
The beautiful Lady Kukachin. 



GIORGIONE. 



Long years ago, whea Venice ruled the sea, 
Two youths together lived, and worshipped 

art, 
Titian and Giorgione ; both had learned 
The mastery of color, and one sang 
Upon the lute the songs his poet-soul 
Wrought out in measure, sad, intense, and 

strong. 
Like his own shadowed life. 

Both painters loved, 
And grew diviner by the power which love 
Alone can give ; sweet Violante's face 
Lives in the Sleeping Venus through all 
time, 

24 



Giorgione. 25 

And Giorgione made Cecilia queen, 

And gave her homage, fervent, true, and' 

deep. 
Without her, life was naught, and with 

her, all. 
Work was but pleasure if she gave it 

praise ; 
And night was day if brightened by her 

smile. 

Morta da Feltri, from his Roman home, 

Came to the young Venetian ; was his 
friend. 

And shared the comforts of his generous 
board. 

Weeks passed, as day by day, in friend- 
ship's guise, 

Morta sought entrance to Cecilia's heart. 

He too had found the idol of his dreams ; 



26 Giorgione. 

He too had seen the counterpart of soul 
That makes or mars forever ; so he took 
From Giorgione's roof the one bright thing 
That was his life. 

The painter's lips grew still ; 
His hands refused to work, the power was 

gone; 
Despair made havoc with the youthful 

brain ; 
Death came, and Titian stood alone in art. 
Venice was bowed with grief, and Morta 

fled, 
To die alone on Zara's battle-field. 
What of Cecilia, she who wrecked two 

lives ? 
Three centuries are silent of her fate. 



HENRY HUDSON. 



(Summer of 1611.) 

At daybreak, on the frozen Hudson's Bay, 

Shut in from mortal view, 
TI18 ship " Discovery " at anchor lay, 

With her disheartened crew. 



All winter long, starvation at the feast 

Had been a constant guest ; 
The northwest passage to the favored 
East 
Seemed like an idle quest. 
27 



28 Henry Hudson. 



They murmured at their leader, brought 
to feed 
The fishes of the deep ; 
And murmuring grew to hatred: they 
decreed 
He in their stead should sleep 

In the cold waters which his name should 
bear — 
His monument and grave ; 
They seized and bound him in their mad 
despair, 
And none was near to save. 

Into the shallop Henry Hudson stepped. 

His darling son beside ; 
And six poor wasted seamen near him 
crept, 

To stem that frozen tide. 



Henry Hudson. 29 



The dawn was breaking on that ice-clad 
world, 
When drifted out to sea, 
The sport of icebergs, by the currents 
whirled, 
That starving company. 

What was the end ? Who lingered last 
of all 

In tliat lone voyage of death ? 
Who in delirium would faintly call. 

With his expiring breath. 

For wife and mother on the English 
shore ? 
Who strain his glazing eyes 
In hope of succor that could come no 
more ? 
Then prays and faints and dies. 



30 Henry Hudson. 



Their noble leader gone, the murderous 
crew 
Set sail for native land; 
For months they wandered, growing 
gaunt and few 
From want and savage hand. 

At last, too weak to steer, their vessel ran 

Into an Irish bay; 
Each one, unwelcome to his fellow-man, 

Dishonored, passed away. 

And when the ship " Discovery " was sent 

To learn of Hudson's fate, 
Only the icebergs heard the sad lament 

Of friends who came too late. 



LEAVING ST. PETERSBURG. 

Unfurl the sails, put out to sea, 
Farewell to jBieet and gilded dome ; 

Fair Petersburg, as queenly she, 
And proud, as ancient Rome. 

Built on the wave by Peter's hands, 
With lives he counted naught ; 

His monument to-day she stands. 
His best and grandest thought. 

Weighted by rule of Church and State, 

Yet in her infancy ; 
A century shall make her great, 

Her press and people free. 
31 



32 Leaving Si. Petersburg. 



Railways shall open to the light 

Her jewels rich and old, 
Her marble and her malachite, 

Her silver and her gold. 

Open your doors to every name, 
O, mighty Eussian throne ! 

That land is greatest which can claim 
The world's best blood its own. 



EASTER HYMN. 

Tune — " Jerusalem, the Golden." 



O GLORIOUS Easter morning ! 

day of peace and light ! 
One precious name adorning 

With lilies pure and white. 
A gladsome message bringing 

Of love that knows no fear ; 
The sweetest anthem singing, 

" The risen Christ is here." 

He comes with gifts of healing 
For wounded hearts that moan ; 

A sunlit path revealing, 

A world with pain unknown. 

He comes with life eternal, 
With hope, and joy, and peace ; 
33 



34 Easter Hymn. 

happiness supernal, 
When want and woe shall cease ! 

He gave His life for others, 

Alike for you and me ; 
He counts us as His brothers, 

All one, nor bond nor free. 
The bands of sin are broken ; 

The poor and the oppressed 
Hear the sweet gospel spoken, 

" Come unto me and rest." 

glorious Easter morning ! 

day of peace and light ! 
One precious name adorning 

With lilies pure and white. 
A gladsome message bringing 

Of love that knows no fear ; 
The sweetest anthem singing, 

" The risen Christ is here." 



HER CREED. 



She stood before a chosen few, 
With modest air and eyes of blue ; 
A gentle creature, in whose face 
Were mingled tenderness and grace. 

" You wish to join our fold," they said ; 
" Do you believe in all that's read 
From ritual and written creed. 
Essential to our human need ? " 

A troubled look was in her eyes ; 
She answered, as in vague surprise, 
As though the sense to her were dim : 
" I only strive to follow Him." 

35 



36 Her Creed. 

They knew her life ; how oft she stood, 
Pure in her guileless maidenhood, 
By dying bed, in hovel lone. 
Whose sorrow she had made her own. 

Oft had her voice in prayer been heard. 
Sweet as the note of any bird ; 
Her hand been open in distress ; 
Her joy to brighten and to bless. 

Yet still she answered, when they sought 
To know her inmost earnest thought, 
With look as of the seraphim, 
" I only strive to follow Him." 



THE UNFINISHED STOCKING. 



Lay it aside — her work — no more she 
sits 
By open window in the western sun, 
Thinking of this and that beloved one 

In silence as she knits. 

Lay it aside ; the needles in their place ; 
No more she welcomes at the cottage 

door 
The coming of her children home once 
more, 
With sweet and tearful face. 

Lay it aside ; her work is done, and well ; 

A generous, sympathetic. Christian life ; 

A faithful mother and a noble wife ; 
Her influence who can tell ? 
37 



38 The Unfinished Stocking. 



Lay it aside ; — say not her work is done ; 
No deed of love or goodness ever dies, 
But in the lives of others multiplies : 

Say it is just begun ! 



THE TIDE IS IN. 



The boats lay stranded on the beach, 
Tangled with seaweed, dank and green ; 
A desolate and dreary scene, 

Far as the eye could reach ; 
The tide was out. 

How changed the view when day was done ; 
The boats rode gayly on the deep. 
Their white sails nodding as in sleep, 

Kissed by the setting sun ; 
The tide was in. 

Thus many a life, in want or woe, 
Lies stranded on a barren shore ; 
But God is God forevermore ; 
Take courage, for we know 

The tide comes in. 
39 



40 The Tide Is In. 



And lifted from the rocks and shoals, 
We sail upon a sunlit sea ; 
Night opens on eternity, — 

Sweet rest for weary souls, — 
The tide is in. 



NEVER THE SAME. 



Neveb again the same rich purple sunset, 

Or golden afterglow ; 
Never again the same sweet day of summer 

Thy life shall know. 

Never again the same rainbowed illusions 
That come alone to youth ; 

Never perchance such beautiful ideals 
Of love and truth. 

Never again the same transcendent moment 
To lift by kindly word, 

Or generous act, or smile, the heart of 
mortal 

By sorrow stirred. 

41 



42 Nmer the Same. 



Never the same inspiring high endeavor 

With which the soul is rife ; 
Never again the same grand wondrous 
journey 

Which we call Life. 

Never the same ecstatic joy of loving 

The human or divine : 
Then seize the present with each fruitful 
moment — 

Naught else is thine. 



CHANGE. 

TO M. L. B. 

I WATCHED the crocus, purple, white, and 
yellow, 
Outbursting in the spring ; 
The snowy air grew soft, and sweet, and 
mellow. 
And birds began to sing. 

But soon the crocus faded, and I sorrowed ; 

When lo ! the tulips came. 
Of brilliant red, and from the sun they 
borrowed 

Their glowing hearts of flame. 

And they, too, passed, but daisies white, 
and clover, 
Clustered on hill and moor ; 
43 



44 Change. 

And clematis and roses clambered over 
The homes of rich and poor. " 

"Alas!" I said, "this earth we love and 
cherish 
Will fade away in space." 
Take courage, heart ! we change, but do 
not perish, 
For heaven will take its place. 



THE FUTURE. 



I CANNOT know when grass will grow 

Above my grave ; 
What friend will stand, with empty hand, 

And tears to lave 
The daisies fair that flourish there — 

I love them best ; 
I cannot tell if hill or dell 

Will give me rest. 

I do not pine for marble shrine 

Or graven stone, 
Or fragrant bowers of costly flowers 

By dear ones sown ; 
But plant a tree to shelter me. 

Of nature's green ; 
The mountain-ash, whose berries flash 

With ruby sheen. 
45 



46 TJie Future. 



And come, sometimes, when sunset chimes 

Their chorus ring ; 
And with the birds your loving words 

In concert sing. 
And I s^all hear the notes of cheier 

From worlds above ; 
For heaven is nigh to those who die 

With hearts of love. 



BLESSINGS NEAR AT HAND. 

We look too far for blessings ; 

We seek too far for joys ; 
We ought to be like children 

Who find their chiefest toys 

Ofttimes in nearest attic, 

Or in some dingy lane ; 
Their aprons full of weeds or flowers, 

Gathered in sun or rain. 

Within the plainest cottage 

Unselfish love may grow ; 
The sweetest, the divinest gift 

Which mortals ever know, 
47 



48 Blessings Near at Hand. 



We ought to count our joys, not woes ; 

Meet care with, winsome grace ; 
For discontent plows furrows 

Upon the loveliest face. 

Hope, freedom, sunlight, knowledge. 

Come not to wealth alone : 
He who looks far for blessings 

Will overlook his own. 



FAITH. 

If I could feel my baud, dear Lord, in 
Thine, 

And surely know 
That I was walking in the light divine 

Through weal or woe ; 

If I could hear Thy voice in accents sweet 

But plainly say. 
To guide my groping, wandering feet, 

"This is the way," 

I would so gladly walk therein, but now 

I cannot see. 
Oh, give me, Lord, the faith to humbly bow 

And trust in Thee ! 
49 



so Faith. 

There is no faith in seeing. Were we led 

Like children here, 
And lifted over rock and river-bed, 

No care, no fear, 

We should be useless in the busy throng. 

Life's work ujidone ; 
Lord, make us brave and earnest, true and 
strong. 

Till heaven is won. 



FROM LIFE. 



TuE rich man sat in his costly store, 
After the work of the day was done, 

Thinking and planning with eager heart 
How could more gold be won. 

Twilight softened the city's din. 

Lessened the crowds along the street, 

Shaded the face of a pale young girl, 
Who passed with hurrying feet. 

A timid knock at the merchant's door : 
" Come in ! " with a cold, ill-natured 
grace. 
" I read that you needed help," she said, 
" And could I fill the place ? " 
51 



52 From Life. 

" You seem too young, and your hands too 
•white ; 
You have worked before to-day, you 
said. 
Has your life been right and free from 
stain ? 
No sin upon your head ? " 

" I am well and strong for my every task, 
You shall find me honest, and just, and 
true; 

The past is buried with me, and God ; 
And can I serve for you ? " 

" A woman must be above reproach. 
No matter what she has power to be ! " 

And he turned the door on the trembling 
girl 
Into that human sea. 



From Life. 53 

The years went by, and the merchant's 
child, 

Grown to womanhood fair and sweet, 
Trusted and nursed with her virgin soul 

A viper at her feet. 

The rich man, broken in heart and home. 
Thought of the girl he had turned away : 

" I would she might come again," he said, 
*•' For my heart is kind to-day ! " 



BROKEN MEASURES. 



Boy and girl they played together, 

Pure and shy of speech : 
She as fair as purple heather 
Bending in the summer weather 

Far as sight can reach. 

Like an angel to his vision 

Seemed the maiden's face ; 

Then he walked in fields elysian, 

Thinking in a sweet revision 
Of each word and grace. 

Worship is not always spoken ; 

Love is often dumb ; 
And the days gave her no token 
That his young heart would be broken 

Should another come. 



54 



Broken Measures. 55 



Vows were said for woe or weal 
On a glad spring morn : 

Joy that was complete and real — 

Sorrow for a lost ideal — 
In two hearts were born. 

Like the crescent moon she lighted 

Up one lonely way ; 
Like the sun her rays delighted 
One — the other's path was blighted 

Like a sunless day. 

Life is full of broken measures, 

Objects unattained ; 
Sorrows intertwined with pleasures, 
Losses of our costliest treasures, 

Ere the heights be gained. 

Every soul has aspiration 
Still unsatisfied; 



56 Broken Measures. 



Memories that wake vibration 
Of the heart in quick pulsation, 
At the gifts denied. 

We are better for the longing, 

Stronger for the pain ; 
Souls at ease are nature wronging ; 
Through the harrowed soil come thronging 

Seeds, in sun and rain ! 

Broken measures find completeness 

In the perfect whole ; 
Life is but a day in fleetness — 
Richer in all strength and sweetness 
Grows the striving soul. 



THE NEW ERA. 



It is coming ! it is coming ! The day is 
just a-dawning 
When man shall be to fellow-man a 
helper and a brother ; 
When the mansion, with its gilded hall, 
its tower and arch and awning, 
Shall be to hovel desolate a kind and 
foster-mother. 

When the men who work for wages shall 
not toil from morn till even, 
With no vision of the sunlight, nor flow- 
ers nor birds a-singing ; 
When the men who hire the workers, blest 
with all the gifts of heaven. 
Shall the golden rule remember, its glad 
millennium bringing. 
57 



58 77?^ New Era. 



The time is coming when the man who 
cares not for another 
Shall be accounted as a stain upon a fair 
creation ; 
Who lives to fill his coffers full, his better 
seK to smother, 
As blight and mildew on the fame and 
glory of a nation. 



The hours are growing shorter for the 
millions who are toiling, 
And the homes are growing better for 
the millions yet to be ; 
And the poor shall learn the lesson, how 
that waste and sin are spoiling 
The fairest and the finest of a grand 
humanity. 



The New Era. 59 



It is coming ! it is coming ! and men's 
thoughts are growing deeper ; 
They are giving of their millions as they 
never gave before ; 
They are learning the new gospel, man 
must be his brother's keeper, 
And right, not might, shall triumph, and 
the selfish rule no more. 



CHESTNUTS. 



Three together in soft, brown nest ; 
The prettiest nest that ever was seen : 
Shut in a ball of thorny green, 

Close and warm are the wee things pressed, 
Till by and by in the autumn sun 
Four petals open, and one by one 

They fall on a cushion of leaves below : 
Ah ! who shall tell of their destiny ? 
One takes root for a stately tree ; 

One squirrels garner before the snow ; 
And one is the gift of a bright, young boy 
To a blue-eyed maiden, fair and coy : 
Each has its place — who shall say 

which is best 
For three together in soft, brown nest ? 
60 



WHEN CHESTNUTS FALL. 



We gathered chestnuts, you and I, 
Under a blue and cloudless sky ; 

The brown leaves rustled to our tread, 

The brown burrs opened overhead, 

When chestnuts fall. 

We lingered long in happy quest ; 

The sun swept down the glowing west, 
Leaving the soft, pink afterglow 

On tower, and tree, and vale below. 
When chestnuts fall. 

What matter if hands touched that day, 

Under the leaves where chestnuts lay ? 
What matter if love's story old 
By heart and eye anew was told, 
When chestnuts fall ! 
6i 



62 When Chestnuts Fall. 



We wondered what the years would bring, 
When chestnut burrs were opening 

In other autumns — you and I, 

Under some blue and cloudless sky, 
When chestnuts fall. 



I WONDER. 



He kissed a child along the street — 
" How rich and full is life to ine ! 
How fair is every flower and tree ! 

The song of birds is doubly sweet. 

" The sky is bluer overhead ; 

My heart grows tender to all men ; " 
A smile lit up his face, and then, 

** I wonder is this love ? " he said. 

She kissed a purple cluster, sweet, 
Culled from a rich wistaria vine : 
"This is his precious flower, and 
mine ; " 
And passed along the busy street. 
63 



64 / Wonder. 

"How warni the sunlight overhead! 
I hear soft music in the air, 
As though the angels called to prayer ; 

I wonder is this love ? " she said. 



v 

A SUNSET WALK. 



Do you remember 
That sweet September 

When sky was golden and sea was blue, 
We two together 
In love's own weather 

Walked at sunset the woodland through ' 

The great trees, rifted 

With sunlight, lifted 
Their sturdy boughs to the upper air ; 

Each vista seeming 

Like happy dreaming 
Of vales in Paradise most fair. 

65 



66 A Sunset Walk. 



The birds were calling, 

And nuts were falling 

From squirrels who sprang from limb to 

limb, 

While over the bridges 

And moss-green ridges 

We walked together till twilight dim. 
■^ 

' No word was spoken 

That could betoken 
The inner thought of us two that day. 

To meet and sever ! 

Ah ! shall we ever 
Walk again in the dear old way ? 



BECAUSE I LOVE YOU. 



" I CANNOT bring you wealth," she said ; 
" I cannot bring you fame or place 
Among the noted'of the race ; 
But I can love you. 

" When trials come to test you, sweet, 
I can be sunlight to your feet ; 
My kiss your precious lips shall greet, 
Because I love you. 

" When daylight dies along the west, 
You will come home to me for rest, 
And I shall sleep upon your breast, 
Because I love you. 
67 



68 Because I Love You. 



" If sickness conies, beside your bed 
I will bend low with quiet tread, 
And pray God's blessing on your head, 
Because I love you. 

" As dew clings to the violet, 
Making the fragrant chalice wet, 
So my life into yours is set. 
Because I love you. 

" Only myself, my all, I bring ; 
But count it, sweet, a precious thing 
my life an offering 
Because I love you. 



To give my life an offering, 



" I bow before no other shrine ; 
If I go first across death's line, 
I will return to claim you mine. 
Because I love you." 



A SONG. 

If I could have the sunsets, dear, 

And have you too ; 
The mellow light of coming night, 

And have you too ; 

If I could have the moonlight, dear, 

And have you too ; 
Its loving face and tender grace, 

And have you too ; 

If I could have the song of birds, 

And have you too; 
The quiet nook and murmuring brook, 

And have you too ; 
69 



70 A Song. 

Your sympathy and cheering words, 

Like fragrant flowers ; 
The daisies sweet, beneath our feet, 

In summer hours ; 

Then life would be complete for me, 

A cloudless day ; 
Not wealth nor fame, but one dear name 

To bear for aye. 



MARBLEHEAD NECK. 



The waves beat idly, with a ceaseless 
roar, 
And to and fro the seaweed bends to 
me, 
Kissing the great red rocks along the 
shore. 
But thou, beloved, art not here to see. 

The sun goes down in glory in the west, 
Bathing in crimson every flower and 
tree. 
The white sails redden on the ocean's 
breast. 
But thou, beloved, art not here to see. 
71 



72 Marblehead Neck. 



The twilight gathers and the moon rides 
high; 
I watch its silver track and think of 
thee ; 
God keep thy path as bright from earth 
to sky, 
When I, beloved, am not here to see. 



A SONG. 

All the sky is blue above me, 

And the leaves with graceful motion 

Bend themselves to soothe and love me; 
For my heart is on the ocean. 

And the moon shines out so clearly, 

Tenderly my woe discerning 
For the one I love most dearly. 

And to whom my heart is turning. 

Tell him, stars, my thoughts are o'er him ! 

Kiss him, winds, in sweet devotion ! 
Murmur, waves, that I adore him, 

That my heart is on the ocean ! 
73 



74 - A Song. 

Tell him time nor sea can sever 
Hearts that into one are blended! 

Tell him love is love forever, 
After life itself is ended ! 



MY ROBIN. 



When I was , a child, beside our door, 
In a green and spreading sycamore 
There sung each morning, with note as 

clear 
As a crystal brook, and full of cheer, 
A robin. 

I watched his plumage in childish glee, 
And fancied he sung his song for me ; 
And the melody lingers in heart and 

brain, 
Making me often a child again, — 
My robin. 
75 



76 My Robin. 

I look for his coming in early spring, 
When the crocus opens, and maples bring 
Their crimson tassels to kiss the breeze, 
And the sunshine dallies with new-leaved 
trees, — 

My robin. 

I hear him sing as the sun goes down. 
And the stars come out o'er the silent 

town; 
But there's never a harsh or mournful 

note. 
That wells afresh from the warbler's 

throat, — 

My robin. 

And I learn a lesson of hope and cheer 
That carries me on from year to year ; 
To sing in the shadow as in the sun. 
Doing my part till the work is done, — 
My robin. 



THE COLORING OF THE GRAPES. 



Day by day we watched them taking on 
the purple, 
Toying with the sunshine in a golden 
mist, 
Sending out their fragrance with a royal 
bounty, 
Happy in their beauty simply to exist. 

Through the long, dry summer, broad, 
green leaves had shaded 
Tiny growing clusters from the parching 
heat; 
Gathering from earth and sky, food and 
air and moisture. 
Bathing them in evening dew, thus to 
make them sweet. 
77 



78 The Coloring of the Grapes. 



Eed and white and purple globes of won- 
drous texture, 
Grown and sealed and colored by no 
mortal hand ; 
Types of peace and plenty — nature's per- 
fect working — 
Blessings on the vineyards of our favored 
; and ! 



ON COLLAMER HILLS. 



Tree-covered hills, crossed by a deep 
ravine ; 

Yonder a lake of blue, 
Shaded to crimson hue 
When rays of sunset bridge the vale be- 
tween. 

Then stars come out, led by the crescent 
moon ; 

Afar the city sleeps ; 

All night the cricket keeps 
Its constant monotone, a plaintive croon. 

Then morning breaks on the horizon line ; 

The hill-tops are aglow ; 

The vineyards purple grow ; 
The dew-drops like a million diamonds 
shine. 

79 



8o On Collamer Hills. 



Then all day long the clouds their pictures 
trace 

On broad and varied sky ; 

The weeks slip noiseless by ; 
Ah ! life is sweet with nature face to face. 



THE BLOOMING TIME. 



Where do you hold your fragrance, lilac 
buds, 
Set in your leaves of green? 
The air is burdened with your rich per- 
fume, 
Entrancing, yet unseen. 



One dreams of music where no word is 
sung. 
To break the mystic spell; 
The shoreless future murmurs in one's 
ear; 
The ocean in the shell. 
8i 



82 The Blooming Time, 



Nature is vocal with her bursting bloom ; 

Even the stately trees ; 
The chestnuts and the oaks in gladness 
swing 

Their tassels to the breeze. 



The elms are covered with their fleecy 
tufts, 

The new spruce decks the old ; 
The maples drop their ruby wings upon 

The dandelion's gold. 

The buttercups lift up their shining 
heads, 
The earth is full of bliss ; 
The roses too are budding: God be 
praised 
For such a world as this ! 



OUR HORSE-CHESTNUT TREES. 



We have planted on our hillside 

Three graceful chestnut trees, 
Which will swing their piuk-white clus- 
ters 

To every passing breeze 
Long after he who gave them, 

And we who love their shade, 
Shall be on yonder hillside 

Among the silent laid. 

Perhaps beneath their branches 
Some child will sing at play ; 

Perhaps some lover's tale be told 
Some golden autumn day, 

83 



84 Our Horse-Chestnui Trees. 



When the grapes are growing purple, 

And the far-off lake is blue, 
And two are enough in all the world, — 

Forever old, yet neAv. 

And here some man or woman, 

White-haired and bent with age, 
When the moon comes over the hilltop, 

And floods the closing page 
Of the book of life, near finished. 

May rest in well-earned ease. 
And thank his God and the giver 

For the noble chestnut trees. 



THE TIME TO LOVE. 



I WATCHED a youtli and maiden by the 
sea: 
The white foam dashed upon the rocks 

in spray, 
As sportive as fair children at their 
play; 
It kissed her cheek and brow, from care 

as free 
As birds in summer ; smiling tenderly, 
He took her hand in his in manly way. 
The picture lingered with me many a 
day: 
" Youth is the time to love," it said to me. 
85 



86 Tlie Time to Love. 



I watched them later, when the youth 
had grown 
To man's estate, and little ones were led 
By gentle hands; her face with gladness 
shone : 
" Ah ! manhood is the time to love," I 
said. 
Sweet love! without thee age itself were 
lone; 
Life and eternity by love are wed. 



NOT FOR OURSELVES. 

Down to the Nile, with instinct sure and 
true, 
The Egyptian beetle winds its measured 

way; 
There lays its eggs, and in the moistened 
clay 
Enrolls its treasure ; then, as if it knew 
The widening waters to a deluge grew, ' 
Braces its feet, and backward, through 

the gray 
And slipping sand, to safety bears away 
Its still-increasing burden ; and, when 

through 
With constant labor, dies, content to see 
Another life, with all its cares, begun, — 
87 



88 Not for Ourselves. 



Its joys and hopes, its purposes and 
fears. 
Not for itself, but for its progeny. 

It has unceasing toiled from sun to sun, 
And taught its lesson through a thou- 
sand years. 



HIS MONUMENT. 



He built a house, time laid it in the dust ; 
He wrote a book, its title now forgot ; 
He ruled a city, but his name is not 
On any tablet graven, or where rust 
Can gather from disuse, or marble bust. 
He took a child from out a wretched cot. 
Who on the State dishonor might have 
brought. 
And reared him in the Christian's hope 

and trust. 
The boy, to manliood grown, became a light 
To many souls, and preached for human 
need 
The wondrous love of the Omnipotent. 
89 



go His Monument. 



The work has multiplied like stars at night 
When darkness deepens; every noble 
deed 
Lasts longer than a granite monument. 



MENCIUS. 



Three centuries before the Christian age, 
China's great teacher, Mencius, was 

born : 
Her teeming millions did not know that 
morn 
Had broken on her darkness ; that a sage, 
Reared by a noble mother, would her page 
Of history forevermore adorn. 
For twenty years, from court to court, 
forlorn 
He journeyed, poverty his heritage, 
And preached of virtue, but none cared to 
hear. 

91 



92 Mencius. 

Life seemed a failure, like a barren 
rill; 
He wrote his books, and lay beneath 
the sod : 
When lo! his work began; and far and 
near 
Adown the ages Mencius preaches 
still: — 
Do thy whole duty, trusting all to 
God. 



NOW. 

Forget the past and live the present 
hour ; 
Now is the time to work, the time to 

fill 
The soul with noblest thoughts, the 
time to will 
Heroic deeds, to use whatever dower 
Heaven has bestowed, to test our utmost 
power. 
Now is the time to love, and, better 

still, 
To serve our loved ones ; over passing 
ill 
To rise triumphant; thus the perfect 
flower 

93 



94 Now. 

Of life shall come to fruitage; wealth 
amass 
For grandest giving ere the time be 
gone. 
Be glad to-day, to-morrow may bring 
tears ; 
Be brave to-day, the darkest night will 
pass, 
And golden rays will usher in the 
dawn; 
Who conquers now shall rule the 
coming years. 



"BE WHAT THOU SEEMEST." 



To Tuscany, upon a rocky steep, 

To build a home among the beasts of 

prey, 
St. Francis of Assisi came one day; 
And when liis weary comrades fell 

asleep, 
Leaving the saint in agony to weep 
Over a . sinful world, so prone to 

stray, 
He preached to birds the true and 
living way, 
Whose tiny liearts with joy began to 
leap. 

95 



96 "Be What Thou Seemest." 



A peasant came, and meekly reverent 
stood : 
''Art thou St. Francis of Assisi ? " 
"Yes." 

"Ah, then, take heed, and be in truth 
as good 
As all men count thee, lest their faith 
grow less ; 

Be what thou seemest, without vain 
deceit." 

St. Francis knelt and kissed the peas- 
ant's feet. 



AT TWILIGHT. 



[ STOOD at twilight by the shimmering 
lake, 
And watched the shadowy, autumn- 
tinted leaves, 
Inverted, swaying in the evening 
breeze. 
And the red tower above the boat-house 

make 
A picture that no future years can take 
From out my memory ; shadows such 

as these — 
The beautiful unreal — make oases 
In every earnest life : we dream and 
wake 

97 



98 At Twilight. 

To nobler duties from such times of rest : 
Earth seems a paradise reflecting 
heaven ; 
Love floods the soul with colors richer 
far 
Than even nature in the glowing west; 
The hopes of youth come back; new 
strength is given, 
As through the twilight breaks the 
eveninar star. 



DO YOUR WORK EARLY. 



Besidk my window, in the early spring, 
A robin built her nest and reared her 

young; 
And every day the same sweet song she 
sung 
Until her little ones had taken wing 
To try their own bird-living; everything 
Was done before the summer roses hung 
About our home, or purple clusters 
swung 
Upon our vines at autumn's opening. 
Do your work early in the day or year, 
Be it a song to sing, or word to cheer, 
99 



loo Do Your Work Early. 



Or house to build, or gift to bless the 
race ; 
Life may not reach its noon, or setting 

sun; 
No one can do the work you leave 
undone, 
For no one ever fills another's place. 



